Marcus Clearbrook

Proficiencies:
-knowledgeable in forest survival
-adept at gardening
-hardworking
-knows how to read and write
-knows way around a farm
-has decent relationship with Ulven
Occupation: Hunter/woodsman…. looking to possibly be trained as a guard

Marcus sat in the tavern looking out the window at New Hope. The sun shone brightly, melting snow from the previous winter, bringing hopes of an early spring. Which everyone would love to get the crops planted as soon as possible in hopes of a bountiful crop. Finishing his dark ale, he turned back to ask the innkeeper for another tankard of this bitter, but pleasing brew. Marcus felt good. He and Brodin made it to New Hope without further issue after nearly dying outside the Hidden Gem inn. Thanks to Fritha and her ulven companions for saving their lives.
Since he and Brodin made it to New Hope, it has been a flutter of activity. Well mostly for Brodin. With him completing his task for the Pheonix and now has set up a small stall with his silver smithing shop to make some coin during their stay. Marcus, well he has helped out with some tedious paperwork for the Phoenix, went hunting a couple times and a few fishing excursions. But mostly it seems like he just goes from tavern to tavern, sampling beers and learning what gossip or information that he can. A great many people suggest groups that he can join up with to find direction and purpose. One shady individual with an affinity for whiskey suggested that a pirate group might be interested. Ha, the notion Marcus Clearbrook being a pirate. The notion felt so absurd that Marcus noticeably chuckled out loud.
At the other end of the small tavern sat a man with a shiny dented breastplate that reflected light, which shone through a nearby window. “Is something funny, Sir?” he asked pointedly. Marcus turned to face the man and sized him up briefly. The man was of a large build similar to himself, short cropped beard and an assortment of scars that patched his face. This wasn’t a man to fool with, Marcus thought, I’m sure that whatever caused those scars didn’t live very long to tell the tale. “Nothing at all, just happy for the prospect of an early spring. Care for a tankard of this interesting dark ale?” Marcus asked kindly. “Aye, I have tried the innkeepers brew before, but this is definitely his best batch.”
Marcus retrieved another tankard for the stranger and went to join him at his small round table. As he sat down he sized him up even more. This man had a very odd assortment of clothing, Bright red and black clothes with all different patterns, and his helm was decorated with multiple red feathers. Marcus thought it was odd, but he wasn’t about to point it out to this gentleman.
“Where are you from?” The stranger said.
“New Aldoria recently, Aldoria before coming to Mardun.” Marcus said.
“Oh really? How did you end up here?” He asked before Marcus could ask his own question.
“That is a pretty long and drawn out story. It would take us deep into the night.” Marcus stated matter of a fact.
“I will take the abbreviated version if you have one. I have to check up on my troops in a little while.” He said glancing outside
“Well, I was born in little farming community called Arkos. My mother taught me to read and write, and keep a garden. My father taught me to hunt and hold many of the morals and standards that I have today. My family was killed by the undead advancement into Aldoria, when I was 10 or 11, I can’t remember. I narrowly escaped with my life. Caught a boat bound to Mardrun, settled in New Aldoria for the next 10 or so years. That is where I learned how to inventory cargo and keep a tight schedule. I developed a love of beer and a hate of many greedy and selfish people. I also honed my skills for skinning and butchering for an elderly tanner. Eventually, I was forced to leave, because of corrupt guards and people who didn’t stand up for me after I helped them out more than I should have. I fled toward New Hope during this last winter, which wasn’t easy. I saved a now current friend of mine from a group of bandits. We nearly died in last month’s horrendous blizzard, but we were narrowly saved by a band of Ulven. Which makes me really appreciate them all the more. After that…. experience. We made our way here, where he has traveled for the Phoenix, for now. Me, I am still looking for my calling.” Marcus said as he looked thoughtfully in his dark beer, no reflection or words of wisdom in the cold brew.
The flamboyantly clad stranger looked at Marcus sternly. “Have you killed a man?” He asked without feeling.
“Yes, to save those I thought needed help. I don’t kill for pleasure, or because they have something I want. I am of a mind to work hard for whatever I want.” Marcus said with passion.
“And what do you want?” He asked while looking at Marcus with intense blue eyes.
Marcus looked out the window to see a man hauling wood in a hand cart, a couple small kids happy to be outside without fear of being horribly cold or getting sick. Then he met the stranger’s gaze. “I want to help people that can’t help themselves. I want to make this place a better place for Ulven, Syndar, and Human alike. I don’t have much money and don’t have a lot of training in a trade. I would rather know a lot of things do them fairly well, than to be an expert at one thing. I want to help, like I have been given help. I want direction without someone taking advantage of me.” Marcus broke the man gaze and thought that either this is a very strong brew or it has been a very odd couple of months. He never used to be this open with strangers.
The stranger looked at him and then outside. He finished his tankard with one long chug and got up. “I must be off; I thank you for the great brew and the abbreviated tale. I must get going to review my troops, I will see you tomorrow.” The stranger turned to leave, his rapier clanging the chair as he turned. This sudden statement left Marcus flabbergasted and wanting.
“Wait! What do you mean that you will see me tomorrow? And as a matter of fact, where? Marcus said excitedly and confused.
The stranger turned. “Oh didn’t I tell you? Silly of me. I am going to train you to fight; I have need of people like you. We will be leaving in the morning. Be there at dawn and we will draw up papers of your enlistment. And if you do not show, then I will assume that you decided to enjoy your life as a futureless drifter in a land that is neither his and becoming more inhospitable by the season. Now is the time for you to learn how to fight, so you can be either a valuable asset or a worthy challenge in the shaping of Mardrun. Good day” The gaily dressed warrior, opened the door, donned his flamboyant helm, and strutted down the street.
Marcus watched him leave, drained his tankard, got up and walked to the thin innkeeper whipping down a wine goblet.
“I will take another tankard of this fine brew, and then I must be off. I must tell my friend that it is time for our adventure to continue!”